


I'm just the man on the balcony (singing 'nobody will ever remember me')

by megyal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They call you the Winter Soldier," the man said. "But I know who you really are."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm just the man on the balcony (singing 'nobody will ever remember me')

**Author's Note:**

  * For [non_sequential](https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_sequential/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Our Broken Parts (Smashed on the Floor)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/799237) by [This Girl Is (non_sequential)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_sequential/pseuds/This%20Girl%20Is). 



> A birthday gift for thisgirl-is! I asked for a prompt and got one ( _'Steve', and 'something to do with food…dinnertime!_ ) but then I made the fatal error of reading  Our Broken Parts (Smashed on the Floor) while I was writing the gift; I liked it so so much, I abandoned the first one immediately. I thought a quick remix would be a nice gift? The title is from Fall Out Boy, _From Now On We Are Enemies_. Please read the original first, if you haven't already! Except you, thisgirl-is. You wrote it so there's no need.
> 
> Please note that I don't know much about Russian names, so please forgive any errors. As a matter of fact, please forgive as many errors as you can! This wasn't beta'ed. Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the original.
> 
>  **ETA:** The Winter Soldier's name is changed from Yasha to Kolya, as helpfully indicated in [this tumblr post](http://wintergaydar.tumblr.com/post/71487710917/hello-class-today-i-would-like-to-tell-you-why).
> 
>  **ETA2:** This was translated into Chinese by cjx2228, and posted [here](http://likefishinthesea.lofter.com/post/1cad57f7_24b6530).

_This is who you have always been, Kolya. This is who you will always be_.

Convincing, that voice; very convincing. It was more definite, louder, when the pain in his left shoulder increased (thanks to very extreme temperatures, or the connections from the bionic arm to the flesh and bone, and strain from the missions he took on). Why would his arm hurt like that sometimes, if it was a part of who he always was? In any case, Kolya didn't bother to think too hard about it. He wasn't supposed to. He hadn't been born with the arm, that was ridiculous. However, who he was now and the reality of the arm were intertwined together, like the strands in a worn blanket.

Besides, the arm really didn't hurt so badly.

There were times, many times, as he drifted in the long cold sleep, that he dreamed of his arms flailing (both flesh-and-blood arms), and the wind roaring in his ears; his entire body tensing for impact. When he struck the ground, he would float back to life, forever Kolya.

In other moments, _before_ he sank completely into the long cold sleep, he recalled the impossible memory of a blond man who was so slight that a strong wind would send him tottering down a grimy road, laughing; this guy had been so tiny, so obviously sickly and yet so fierce, so bright. He knew for certain that he would never meet another man like that, ever. In those pre-dreams, this small man stared at him and asked, in a surprisingly commanding voice, "Will you fight with me?"

There was never any other acceptable answer than, _Of course, Steve_ , and that name would ring like a bell through his entire head, almost dislodging that cold, calm, convincing voice.

 _I'll fight with you, I'll fight for you, if that's what you want. You know that_.

+

A man walked into the bar, which is how the jokes always start, but this man was gorgeous. He was so obviously bait, too, but Kolya was quite willing to skirt the trap for this one. There was another thing, too: when Kolya met the man's eyes, they widened, a fraction. He recognized Kolya, which was very unusual, because he would hardly forget someone as stunning as this one. He watched the man sit down at the bar, and let his gaze drift down to the curve of his ass atop the stool.

Kolya walked over slowly; in the time it took for him to reach to the man's location, he had thrown back one drink and was now sipping on another in a manner of exaggerated thoughtfulness. He admired the view presented to him: tall and broad-shouldered, long-legged and fair-haired. Usually, Kolya liked to get slender blonds as his cover for missions, their fragility almost a delicacy onto itself; but the look from this one had burned a trail in him, from his throat to his groin.

He leaned against the bar and looked down at the man, the honeypot. "You look like a man having a bad day," he said, using the accent which came to him the easiest. The man nodded, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

"My friend died," the man answered, and didn't the honeypot have the sweetest voice? Deep and with a commanding edge in it. "Only then it turned out that he didn't die at all, and I just thought he did."

Kolya considered the side of his face. The way he clenched his jaw after he spoke, that couldn't be an act. Interesting, so very interesting. This was the truth, yes? An odd truth to share with a stranger, but the poetic side of Kolya's soul liked that, very much.

"That's harsh," he said and the man nodded, slowly. "So…you're drinking to forget?"

The man held himself very still and Kolya resisted the urge to sling his arm, the non-bionic one, across those solid soldiers. Slowly, as if he was afraid to, the man turned and looked up, staring right into Kolya's eyes. The gaze was intimate; he felt his mouth dry with want so deep that he wanted to step to one side and simply walk out of the bar. It felt like too much.

Carefully, the man said, "I just don't want to think about it for awhile," but his face said he thought about it, all the time. Even now, he thought about it.

Kolya was going to keep this one, for as long as he was needed in this area. This one exuded a kind of solemnity that he hadn't known he craved until just now.

He smiled down at the man's grave expression. "I might be able to help you out with that."

+

Outside of the bar, Kolya admired the man's bike; it was sleek, gleaming strength, just like its rider, but the apartment he'd rented was just around the corner. They didn't need it at all. Kolya led the way, holding open the door so that his guest could walk in. He hadn't expected the bait to just walk with him like this; that wasn't standard operating procedure, but Kolya rarely followed those in the first place.

The man looked around as if searching for someone else. The apartment was very nice, cosy without being too closed up, and designed to let in as much natural light as possible; but the man's brow furrowed as if he saw a cage around him. Kolya grabbed him by the arm and shoved him back against the wall, smiling at the way he let out a surprised _oof_. He kissed him, hard and the man seemed as if he didn't know what to do with himself for approximately two seconds. Then, he kissed back. Hard. Kolya bit at him, pulled away to nibble at the side of his neck and received a gasp for his troubles. He couldn't stop touching him, enjoying the feel of his chest-muscles, his stomach, his arms. A feeling of wonder curled up in him, floating up from nowhere.

The man disturbed his explorations by grabbing him by the throat and spinning around so Kolya was pinned to the wall. This…was unanticipated, but from the way he felt his cock thicken, it was exceedingly welcome. He rode the man's thigh, grinned widely and said, "Ah, I knew you'd be fun." He managed to lean forward in the man's hold, far enough to bite that inviting, kiss-scorched mouth. The man jerked back and stared at him, lips parted. His fingers loosened, a fraction, and he seemed as if he wanted to step away and…and leave.

"Now, don't be shy." Kolya licked the man's mouth, tracing over where he'd sunk his teeth. "I'll play nice, if that's what you want."

 _I'll fight for you, if that's what you want_.

No. Not the time for that. He wanted to take this man apart, piece by tiny piece and then build him back up again, but not better. This man was perfectly fine the way he was. Kolya's greatest skill as an assassin was his patience; he could brood over a target for weeks, so it was such a surprise to find himself greedily rushing, pulling the man by his shirt towards the stairs and walking up backwards, devouring his mouth as they went. The man stumbled, and if it wasn't for Kolya's left arm, he might have fallen back, but he was more than strong enough, and fast enough, to react.

In the room, Kolya spun, still holding the man's shirt and flung him towards the bed. He fell back onto the rumpled sheets and then went up on one arm, watching as Kolya removed his shirt and wriggled out of his jeans, and then put his arms on his hips.

"You're still wearing too many clothes," Kolya chided, and to his own ears, he sounded companionable, and not sultry. He got a big grin.

"I was distracted," was the answer, accompanied by a gaze full of warmth. Kolya took a few steps and leaped onto him.

He wanted to suck this man's cock first. Then blow his mind…and not in an assassin way, either.

+

The man had never fucked another man before, and there was something about that knowledge that burned smugly in the middle of Kolya's chest. He had fingered Kolya with hesitant fingers which grew bolder and more sensuous under murmured direction. His weight between Kolya's thighs, thrusting into him, was at once thrilling and comforting, and he came quicker than he would normally.

He knew it would have exploded in his face. The best things usually did.

Kolya had been stretching on the bed, feeling loose and delightfully sore, his whole body humming with pleasure. He thought that in a few hours, before his next mission, they could do this again.

However, he was only a little surprised when the man slid off the bed and hunted around for some clothing. He found Kolya's underwear and tossed it at him.

"You might want to put some clothes on," he said and Kolya kept his body in that relaxed state, even as he tugged them on. _The windows, most likely,_ he thought. They would come in through there. Kolya could handle it.

The windows shattering was expected, the agent in black tumbling into the room was expected. That this agent was the Black Widow was an enormous problem. The cold voice in his head insisted that he take her out first, but Kolya chose to focus on the man; he needed to neutralize him, and then focus on her. Kolya leaped towards him, his left fist curled in that tight shape which embodied certain death. The man dodged it, but his feint was slower than than that metallic fist. At the very last moment, Kolya's arm seemed to spasm towards one side, and he ended up striking the man's cheek in a glancing blow.

That twitch was…infuriating. The blow was still formidable, at least, because the man staggered back a little. He should have gone down anyway, and when he rallied back and delivered a punch to Kolya's stomach, he understood why the man hadn't collapsed under the force of the bionic arm. That hurt immensely; the man was as strong as Kolya himself, probably stronger.

Kolya bared his teeth as he managed to take the man out of commission, just for a few moments by cracking a substantial amount of his ribs and weakening the muscles in his legs; then the Widow was upon him. She was faster than him, she always was, but he had the benefit of greater strength. When it came to the Widow, though, that meant nothing. She seemed angrier than usual.

The man got up and lurched in their direction. He kept trying to wade into the fray between Kolya and the Widow, and Kolya had to keep kicking him out again.

 _Just stay down_ , he thought grimly, parrying another one of her roundhouse kicks (the first one had nearly snapped his neck). _Just stay down, stop getting up and fighting me, just stay down._

The man didn't, and Kolya felt exasperation which had a tinge of fondness to it. That was wrong; he lunged after the man, to make him _stay_ down, and the Widow managed to slice the skin of his arm with her blade, revealing the hard metal. Kolya kicked her across the room and managed to get the man in a chokehold between his thighs, hopefully to knock him out for more than three minutes so he could properly deal with _her_. A metallic suit of armour flew through one of the shattered windows in a flash of red and gold, and hovered there above the glittering pieces of glass and the ruined furniture.

The armour said, "Well, there's something you don't see everyday," and Kolya knew that while he had a chance against the two of them, this was one too many formidable opponents in a small space. Kolya lashed out at the armour as it came close, but it grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him off the man with ease, pinning him in a corner. Black Widow took up position beside the armour, breathing hard; she bared her teeth briefly as she held her hands with her wrists bent at the perfect angle to deploy her sting.

"Don't hurt him!" the man said as he sat on the floor, grimacing. Everyone else simply stopped and stared at him. Kolya wanted to kick him, and fuck him. The armour drew back its arm, clenched his fist and when it slammed into his head, Kolya thought, _I thought he said you shouldn't hurt me._

+

Kolya knew he was placed under high security guard in SHIELD, which was not good, but not particularly bad. Natasha had stared at him through the glass and he'd smirked at her until she left. Then, the man who'd fucked him walked in with a bag from the apartment, full of Kolya's clothes. Standing, Kolya looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

The man hefted the bag. "I picked up some of your things."

Kolya smiled, slow and dirty. He should have at least ten small weapons scattered amongst hidden compartments in his clothes, shoes and the bag itself.

"I checked everything for weapons," the man went on, and Kolya kept smiling. No one could find everything, except for--

"And so did the Black Widow," the man said and Kolya scowled. He spit to one side and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt a distant rage build up in him.

"She betrayed her country." In his mind, the chilling voice echoed the words. Or, the voice said the words first, and he repeated them. He wasn't sure, so it was best not to think about it.

The man gave him a very heavy look. "I'm pretty sure her country betrayed her first."

 _Who is he to say this?_ the voice wondered, freezing along his synapses.

"You don't get to judge that," Kolya told him, his voice rough. That was probably a result of letting his man fuck his throat and then withstanding some strikes from the Black Widow in that general area.

"No, _she_ does," the man answered, low and quick. "And she came here, so I guess that says enough."

Kolya had enough of this. He couldn't think too hard on why he felt such an intense wave of unfathomable emotion towards the Widow. He had loved her. He didn't hate her, not now and not really. He didn't know.

He realized that he'd been twisting his features for a few moments and then made an effort to smooth them out. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

"The Widow already went through the bad cop routine," he said, because her stares were made of legends. "So, you're the good cop. Gotta tell you, giving the suspect a huge dose of cock before you arrest him isn't the best way to get on his side."

The man just looked at him for a long time. "That…should not have happened," he said and Kolya wondered how quickly he could get across the room to crack some more of his ribs. "I'm sorry."

Kolya sneered at him. "The sympathy angle. Nice. You're part of the bad boys' club too, that it?"

"No." The corners of the man's lips tugged up a curve that was more of a grimace than a smile. "Not that at all."

Kolya was confused, and he hated that more than anything. He didn't like the way this man regarded him, with bare loss and pain in the back of his eyes.

"What the hell's all this about?" Kolya waved a hand at the space between the two of them. "What's the game?"

"It's…" The man's eyes; Kolya was going to gouge them out, so they wouldn't look at him like that.

"You fucked me, but you don't know me," he said and felt his upper lip curl at how the man flinched back. Then, Kolya clenched his fists as the man strode forward, looming.

"They call you the Winter Soldier," the man said. "But I know who you really are. Your _real_ name. When you were born." His eyes shone, as if he had a fever. Kolya pressed his lips together. "I know about how you got that scar." He didn't break their locked battle of a gaze as he brushed a hand over the lower right side of his abdomen. "I know about all of the scars you have. I can guess why you don't have a lot more than you should."

There was truth in the man's shaking voice, but Kolya could not believe in it. He shouldn't.

 _If that's what you want_.

He held himself rigidly, wiped his face of any trace of feeling, but the man's scrutiny flayed at him.

"Your whole history," the man said. He spoke so softly now, Kolya could hardly hear him. "I have it all. Who you are, where you come from. You decide you want it, you want to know? You call me. Anytime."

The voice of the long cold sleep was a growl of negation that was painful in the middle of his spine. Kolya ripped his gaze away, and glanced briefly at the observation window at the other end of his cell. For a moment, the low ache subdued. He felt he could withstand it, though. To _know_.

The man said, with a trace of that earnestness which he obviously wore on his sleeve, "I'll tell them. I'll make them know you can call me whenever you want."

Kolya snorted, derisively. "Why should they listen to you, pretty boy?"

A smile bloomed across the man's lips, but there was very little humour in it.

"You think I can't know you," he answered, completely skirting Kolya's question. "You've been with the Red Room since at least the early fifties…right? But not before the mid-forties," and Kolya is struck by the command in his voice, the surety and the fear that lived in it.

"I know you," he said and then, with his face contorting: "I bet you dream about falling."

Kolya tilted his chin, but this was…this was not good. For his part, the other man had the expression of one who had damaged some integral part of himself and knew it well.

"Think about it," the man whispered, and walked out.

Kolya didn't think about it. Instead, he dreamed.

+

_'Will you follow me?' Steve asked, very seriously. Steve was always serious. 'Will you fight with me?'_

_'Yeah, any time,' he answered. 'If that's what you want.'_

_Steve kissed him; first the kiss of an accomplice, then the kiss of a traitor, then that of a beloved. 'You dream of falling. Think about it.'_

_Steve's small, frail hands pressed against his bare chest and shoved. He went flying through the air and then he began to fall. The world rushed up to meet him, to grind his bones and blood into something beyond recognition_.

+

They watched him, and they treated him fairly. Widow passed through like a ghost, accompanied by a man who looked at Kolya closely, and then gazed at the Widow as if he searched for some kind of family resemblance. Fury, who had been recently listed as a target by the Red Room, observed him as well; if these were their methods to get him to break, then he could comfortably remain in here for the rest of his life.

The Man Who Knew Him haunted the holding cells as well, but Kolya made sure not to look at him when that happened.

One morning, before dawn as far as Kolya could reckon, he asked the guard on duty to call him. He stared at her as she pulled out a very basic instrument and punched in the numbers. She spoke, her dark eyes flicking to him every now and again, and then she motioned him close.

She pressed her thumb to a small square in the glass. It widened into a larger panel and then the small section rotated horizontally, creating a little shelf. The agent placed the phone on this shelf and then backed away.

Kolya picked it up, and put it to his ear. He could hear the quiet respiration from the other end.

"Let me put this out there right now," he said and the man's breathing stuttered for a moment. "I'm not going to take up your offer."

"Ok." The man's respiration had almost returned to normal. Almost.

"I have a question," Kolya said and he found he was gripping the phone so tightly that the plastic deformed. He loosened his grip. "I don't want you to explain _anything_ , just answer yes or no. Got it?"

"I got it," the man said immediately.

Kolya closed his eyes, tightly. The cold voice hammered at his skull but he pressed on through it. "Are you Steve?"

"I--" the man started and then stopped. "Yes," he said, _Steve_ said. "Yes, I am."

"Shit," Kolya said. He yanked the phone away from his ear and squeezed it into a worthless lump. He dropped it to the floor, pressed his fists to his temples and breathed out the winter from his lungs.

_fin_


End file.
